A Gift of Violets

There are moments when I doubted this move to the Cariboo. And there will probably be more.

But on Mother's Day, on a walk around the property, I found these tiny, bluish-purple Violets. And they are blooming all over, under Trees and Bushes, in the open Grass, never minding the hooves, paws and feet tromping on their gentle, raised faces. They show me what resilience is.

There are many signs of other wild flowers just on the verge of popping into bloom. At the moment, we have rain...after two days of very lovely warm weather. And there is even warmer weather forecast...perfect conditions for growing.

As it looked as if Spring was finally beginning, I took the opportunity to plant a few tubs on the deck last week, just before Mother's Day, crossing my fingers they would be protected enough against Frost. The Dogs, contentedly gnawing on bones, had grown drowsy and had retreated to their beds for a nap.

I continued, letting my hands feel the soil, taking the baby plants and tucking them into the earth tightly. I gave each a blessing, feeling the Reiki energy flow from my hands. I felt the special warmth in return, from each Plantlet.

Intent on letting creativity and harmony flow, I became unaware of anything outside my sphere of work. So when I looked up, straight into the eyes of Mule Deer who happened to be browsing next to the deck, as unaware of me as I was of him, it took me aback.

We stared at each other, startled yet not. His jaw stopped its sideways motion, becoming still. It seemed we greeted each other, as we gazed and gazed. And then he continued browsing, slowly moving away...and I went back to my work.

Once again, I focused my attention completely on planting. I glanced up to reach for scissors...and saw Owl, his huge wings spread, his legs extended, silently and with deadly speed, grasp a small bird in his great claws. The small bird, a youngster, had been as intent as I, as he foraged for what was to be his last meal. Owl tried to rise...and out of nowhere Mama Bird arrived and attacked Owl, to no noticeable avail.

But it gave Owl the lesson of awareness as well, since he was taken completely by surprise. It is good, at times, to repeat lessons, even for Owl.

Mama was no match for Owl, however, as he flew off with his prey. And Mama Bird lost a child, no matter how hard she fought...

There are no prisoners, I thought to myself, as I went back to planting, a little chastened by what I had seen.

The dogs came out, perhaps to see what the desperate noise Mama had made was about. But all became quiet and drowsy once again, with Wind gently swishing his way through the Fir Trees...and both dogs once again retreated to their beds.

I found my way off the deck, to the lower bench to retrieve a rake I had left leaning against another Tree. Just as I was about to grasp the rake, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Black movement.

It was Black Bear. I had noticed signs for awhile; scat caught on the bottom of shoes is as sticky as fresh toffee and many stumps had been torn apart, in his search for insects. And the dogs would exhibit nervous behaviour, when he was about, pressing closely to me.

It was only the second sighting, however...on the first, I barely caught a glimpse of his rear end. Seeing a full frontal view confirmed my suspicion...he was a big Bear.

And I was off the deck, where I usually watch wildlife. It takes no special courage and gives great safety, to watch from the high deck.

Thoughts ran through my mind...would I make the steps to the deck easily?...as I continued to watch Bear. I would have to climb...and I was clumsy, at the best of times, at climbing the side of the drop-off to the lower bench.

Bear's vision is poor; he relies on his keen sense of smell. He waved his enormous head back and forth, and stood on his hind legs. I prayed the dogs would remain asleep. And that I was right in my assumption he was a male...if he was a female and had babies about she wanted to defend...

When he stood up, I decided I had stayed off the deck long enough. Clumsy or not, I managed the climb, glancing over my shoulder. He had dropped to all fours; still, he waved his massive head about, grunting as he did.

All I wanted was the safety of the deck, behind the latched gate, before the dogs woke up. As Bear started his unique bawl, I felt sure it was only minutes before both dogs would tear out of the house...

But I made it. I closed the gate, just as the dogs started a thunderous barking. Bear decided it was not worth his time to investigate further, and turned, making his way down the knoll.

I calmed the dogs, who were wide awake, sure of their safety on the deck, and were giving Bear what for with ferocious growls and barks.

What kind of energies were about which were sending these animals here, altogether, on this day? And then, I remembered Coyote's odd behaviour the day before.

Coyote had visited for a long time, sitting on the same knoll and watching us on the deck. He wouldn't leave even as the dogs set to barking and growling, even when we shouted at him. It seemed to me he was not going to leave, until he received the answers he was looking for.

He was silver and huge, with bright, blue eyes that bored into mine, almost hypnotizing in their intensity. Previously, I thought Coyote had yellow eyes, but not this one.

Imperiously, as an Emperor might, Coyote left only when he was ready. Perhaps he felt he had made his point.

I was a little rattled, with all the animal visitations. Was I passing whatever test was being given? Were the animals, either at peace or on the hunt, letting me know who lived here? Never before had all these animals shown up on the same day.

Or was it something else entirely?

Could Katrina be sending me gifts, for Mother's Day, of animal friends, sending me her love via Owl, Bear, Deer and Coyote? My question, which made my eyes well up, was answered by the loving wave of energy which suddenly engulfed my very being.

And it was answered further still, a little later, by a small brown bird, who flew into the house, quite unconcerned about dogs. I have written about Small Brown Bird before; I associate her with visitations from Katrina.

She's not shy, this Bird. And the dogs ignore her, strange behaviour in itself. She flew around the big, open area, settling herself here and there. I went into the old kitchen area, a very small room off the open living space. She followed me in, onto the cabinets, where she sat, watching me grab a soft towel.

She followed me out, and sat on the dining table. She hopped onto the back of a chair; I saw my chance to settle the towel over her, hoping thereby to take her out of the house.

She sat quietly, and I fumbled the towel, as I tried to drop it over her as gently as I could. The towel dropped to the floor.

She flew under the table; I couldn't reach her there, and she had a great view of the room. She flew next to Lucky; I held my breath. Lucky lifted his head, they communed, and she flew to the window.

Small Brown Bird waited there, as I opened the window. She hopped to the sill and sat there, ruffling her feathers a bit, making sure every tuft was in place before she faced her world...

Tears flowing strongly at this point, I watched through wavering sight as she flew to the Tree next to the deck and chirped loudly, before she flew off...

I knew the visitations were over, for this Mother's Day, at least.

A gift of Violets and strong, positive, loving energy...what more could a mother ask?

Birth Day Memories

She would have been thirty-three years old, this year on May 24, 2007.

What would she have chosen to be, if she was alive? Would she have found her feet, as a single mother? Would she have openly embraced her passion for dance...for children and animals...for music...for Mother Nature?

Would she have come out of her shell?

Would she have become a teacher, perhaps? A doctor or a nurse? Would she have followed her mother, into an alternative healing route?

Perhaps she would have taken her love of writing poetry a bit further; perhaps she would have wholeheartedly embraced horticulture, in all its many guises. Perhaps she would have become a master herbalist.

The possibilities for her were endless...but she couldn't see them. Strong gates and fences kept her away from a clear path; she couldn't climb the hurdles, or find an unlocked gate.

She gave us Bree; some- times, as Bree grows older, it is difficult for me to differentiate between the two...Bree looks and acts so much like her mother, it startles and unbalances me.

Would she have eventually found her Prince? Would her marriage ceremony have involved lilacs...her favourite flower? Would she have had other children...a whole passel of kids to teach with her sensitive, gentle wisdom?

These are the questions that parents who have lost children ask themselves, over and over again. As each birthday arises, I watch for signs of Katrina; she walks closely with me in the month of May. She visits in the form of a small, brown Bird that insists on keeping close company with me. She visits in the form of Eagle, circling low over me, as I work in the garden.

She visits in the first Rose...a deep, dark red Rose that shines in the mass of greenery surrounding it.

And she visits in the form of deep, loving energy...an energy I can feel as a physical weight. She watches very closely in May.

So I know, intuitively, that her hand is involved in everything her family does. Whatever need arises, from the smallest to the largest, Katrina is a powerful ally.

When Katrina died, someone told me it was a waste. I said no, she had done and taught so much throughout her short life...a gift like this could never be a waste.

I believe she had done what her soul had set out to do. She was needed elsewhere, but her energy still lingers. I can't see her, other than in dreams, but the tie between us is strong. It is un- breakable.

Katrina already was a success. But still I muse, thinking and seeing her as a 33 year old woman...a woman heading into her prime years. A woman who is happy, healthy and content...just a more mature version of her at 23 years of age, when she died.

And that's the imprint she leaves behind with me, now, when she visits.

Wisdom. Maturity. Sensitivity. Eyes that see and know. The surety that all is exactly as it should be. Peace and calm. And finally... accept- ance of where she is.

She is an ongoing gift to me, her mother, one whom I know I can count on with no reservations.

Happy Birthday, Katrina, my dear.